We are the ministering. We are the ministers.
We’re all waiting in line for something.
I think of Andy, though he gets a paycheck from company A, he’s checking in on his team of volunteers at church.
He is a minister.
The park ranger, in keeping the peace and cleanliness at the grassy meadow, points and encourages dog owners to a designated location, keep the space open for others.
He is a minister.
““For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.” ”
She logs online minutes after learning her dear friend died of coronavirus in route to the hospital. She requests prayer and stays to encounter Jesus with her virtual church community.
She is among the ministering.
She makes calls herself, checking in on her friends daily. She thrives off of human engagement and her tank of this is low.
She is a minster and the ministering.
He pastors a church. He is a spiritual leader. He continues to preach, write sermons, meet with this staff, serve the community, carry out the vision God has given him.
Yet the calls and texts are ministering to him as he has needs.
Betsy bakes bread and makes deliveries with her three small kids in tow. It gets them out of the house.
She is a minister.
Zach, Hannah, and Annie serve on the COVID unit floors in three different states.
They are ministers.
Their families adjust their lives to make this work.
They are ministers just as much.
He was asked not to return to his sobriety home until he had a doctor’s note. He fell into old, harmful habits. A few felt promptings to pray and reach out.
He is among the ministering.
The move was planned before this pandemic hit. They have many reasons to disengage and focus on their upcoming trek across the country. Instead, they prioritize their small group. They make calls and host ZOOM hangouts.
They are ministers.
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that he surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
Since mid-March, people are glancing into our homes virtually, where we do workouts using canned goods, join meetings with only the cares of our upper halves, and share communion with orange juice and goldfish. We are a people learning what is essential.
Jars of clay were a common household item in the Corinthian days. A people were learning that Christ dwells in what is common.
You are essential. You are common. You are the minister. You are among the ministering.
“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair...always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.”
Even the ministers battle.
Especially the ministers battle.
Disease. Isolation. Depression. Job loss. Death. Separation. Hunger. Anxiety. Frustration. Blah. Confusion. Doubt. Uncertainty.
For none of us are immune completely.
“For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”
I hoist my shoulders up in the uncertainty when this will end or change. But it’s in the ministering and being ministered to, that we touch the hands and feet of Jesus Christ. This I know, I want our humbling experience to hasten us to a deeper place of ministry of carrying out His plan for His people.